Faramir's Sweetheart
by Miss-Paparella
Summary: Anesia grew up alongside the sons of Denethor. Will losing Boromir prompt Faramir and Anesia to admit the way they feel? Or will the War prove too much to bear as they are tested?
1. Chapter 1 - From the Past to the Present

_Welcome! I'm very excited you've joined me! This is an example of some of my much more recent writing compared to the previous stuff, so I hope you like it, I'd like to think it's better? But that's for you to decide._

_This story follows Faramir almost from where we meet him in the movies. I have read the books but I've chosen to follow the main guideline of the films just for support. I've tried to avoid quoting directly from the film. As much as I love Eowyn, I wanted to write Faramir someone special who understood him from the beginning. There is also a companion piece I'm writing to find Eowyn someone else (I like tying up the loose ends) which is also an Eomer/OC but as that's in early development you won't see it for a while. I'll leave you to it then, enjoy! _

**Chapter One – From the Past to the Present**

The heavy stone halls of Lord Fairshaw's house were still for a short moment. Then, the heavy wooden door was slammed into, the dull thud echoing around the white walls, and then it was heaved open and a ten year old boy appeared, looking around guiltily. He glanced behind him, around again, and walked to the foot of the staircase, craning his neck to look up. He risked it. "Hurry up Annie!" Faramir called out, shifting from one foot to the other, his chin-length hair falling forwards from the cord that held it back. Glancing behind him at the open door, he checked for either of her parents. Lord Fairshaw would just ruffle his hair and chuckle, but Lady Fairshaw-

"I'm coming!" Annie cried, appearing at the top of the stairs, holding the thick green material of her skirt away from her feet so that she could run with little steps down the stairs. Her white-blonde hair, so unusual, flew back from her face gently and her mother's sharp words met their ears.

"Anesia I hope you are not running, child!"

Anesia stopped her footsteps quickly and slowed, so that the noise would not carry so well up the stairs from her dainty silver slippers. With a small shuffle, the red head of Boromir looked around the door.

"Are you two coming?" He hissed, eyes darting about for any hint that Lady Fairshaw might emerge and shoo them away.

"No mother, I'm not." Anesia called back, and pushed Boromir and Faramir ahead of her out of the door, stumbling as they moved too slowly. "Quickly, go, before she keeps me behind to practise embroidery some more!" She hissed, her bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief as she heaved the door shut behind her. The three children broke into a run, a race, and Boromir fell slightly behind as his younger brother and a _girl_ sped ahead. Anesia had her dress above her ankles, bunched up in her fists in a way that would surely leave creases that her mother would scold her for later. Boromir stopped, deciding to be grown up and walk so that they couldn't claim they'd beaten him, and he finally caught them up several streets below in the city itself.

"We beat you again brother." Faramir said with a bright grin, a little out of breath but his cheeks flushed with energy.  
"I stopped running, it doesn't count."

"You stopped running because we beat you." Anesia said, her playful eyes glinting at Faramir and back to his older brother. "Come, would you like to try again?"

"I am bored of running, let us look through the stalls and see if there is anything good." Boromir said in a superior voice, and giggling, the other two followed him obediently. They were well known through the streets, either as dear children or mischievous rascals, and many had placed bets on which brother Anesia would marry, and whether a rivalry might undo either boy. Faramir was too young to care and Boromir was uninterested, and so they grew up, three friends, as Anesia found herself quickly bored with other court ladies.

The young woman who stood before Faramir now was very different to the little girl he remembered. The long, white blonde tresses were always piled up, as now, in a coil of braids around the now slender face. She looked much like her mother, although he feared to say so. Above her cheekbones her eyes had lost their glimmer somewhat, and she didn't smile as much as she once had, in fact rarely did he see that wonderful smile he searched for in crowds at any occasion his father forced them to. But then, most people had ceased to smile in the past few years, with Orcs attacking the outer borders, and Anesia had lost her mother along to them too. She didn't speak of it much, and only ever brought her mother up in jest, as though by maintaining her teasing it was like her mother still lived, chiding her to become more ladylike. In some ways so like his father; always pushing them to be better. Anesia was a lovely young lady, though he daren't admit it, almost as tall as Faramir, and she moved silently. She never ran anymore.

"How long will you be gone?" She asked in a quiet, controlled voice, and he sighed. She asked him this question every time he left, and his brother too, but they could never truthfully answer. It was like a play act for them.

"I don't know, Annie, I'm sorry. As long as I am needed to be." He said, hating that he couldn't give her a better answer. "I'm sorry." He repeated again. "I know you hate it when Boromir and I are both gone." He said, worrying for her already. "Look after yourself, Anesia."

She laughed gently, so clever at creating an impression that she was at ease. "I will be fine. It is you who should be careful, Faramir. I will look often for your flag upon the horizon." Her smile softened and faded as she finished speaking.

"And I await the day you will greet me." He said, and kissed her forehead. "Goodbye Anesia." He said, and she nodded.

"Farewell Faramir." She said, and watched as he left the hall quietly, despite the amount of armour and chainmail he wore.


	2. Chapter 2 - Ill News of an Ill Fate

_Since chapter one was so short I felt I should give you the much longer chapter two as a reward! I hope by getting this far you're excited to read on, like any writer I love reviews and constructive criticism is welcome, I'm always editing this story every time I read it. Let me know what you think of Anesia as a character, I want her to be convincing as a three dimensional character; I worry that sometimes I get caught up in telling the story and forget to develop my characters, so if you need/want more of who Anesia is, please tell me!_

**Chapter Two – Ill News of an Ill Fate**

Anesia was reading, or rather, staring without focus at the pages of a book she had read hundreds of times. She had often read aloud to Boromir and Faramir, who had feigned disinterest but complained when she had stopped. She was snapped out of her reverie when her maid Lania knocked gently on the door and came in.

"My Lady, your father wishes to see you." She said with a bobbed curtsey, and Anesia nodded, closing the book without a care for her page, and leaving it behind on the seat as she left the room. A hand went up to her coiled braids to check absently that they were still neat, and she knocked on her father's study door.

"Come in." He called out; his low voice seemed heavy somewhat.

"You wished to see me father?"

"Anesia, come in." He said, as she moved tentatively around the door. His face looked older and wearier than she had seen in a while, and a stroke of horror shot through her. How long had it been since Faramir had left, a day, two? What had happened?

"I have heard news of Boromir." He said, and she sank gently into a chair, her hand going to her mouth. "He is dead. His possessions and body were found with the remnants of a funeral boat. He had been shot with five arrows, although removed." He said, reaching out and taking her hands in his. "I know he was a dear friend of yours, Anesia, but remember that you will need to be there for Faramir. He will need your friendship and council." He advised, and she nodded, tears threatening to take over if she let them.

"Thank you for telling me father." She said in a choked voice.

"Come here my child." He murmured, and she buried her face in his shoulder and wept for the proud little boy who she had grown up with.

Anesia drifted between two realities; one where she felt like everything was a dream, and she struggled to fit the fact that Boromir was dead into this new version of life. In the other, she was far more alive, her every fibre dependent on seeing the dark banner with the white tree on it coming across the plains towards Minas Tirith. She knew she was worrying her father, but he let her be, allowing her to grieve. Boromir's fate being realised, she felt even more on edge when she thought of Faramir, and that he didn't know of his brother's death yet.

When she did look up from her reading, and saw something moving on the horizon, she nearly didn't spot it – she was so used to not seeing anything there. When she looked back, the book fell to the floor and she leapt up, staring as best she could into the distance at the flag that waved. She blinked, and blinked again, and it swam into view; the white tree of Gondor.

Relief washed through her, and then a cold chill as she realised there was every possibility that Faramir could not be among the company arriving, if it was even his company at all. In any case, it would take at least another hour before the group reached the city's gates.

Anesia changed her dress and rearranged her appearance – she hadn't left the house in a while and usually didn't dress to either. She also had to do _something_ to pass the time it would take the company to reach the gates. Occasionally she would peep through the curtains, hoping the flag would be closer, and sometimes it was, although more often than not she didn't give them long enough to make much progress between looks.

She wrapped her hair back together and secured it with some hairpins, all the while telling herself that she was being frivolous, and Faramir had never once looked in her direction with more than brotherly regard anyway. And why did she want him to? She'd been denying herself that answer for a very long time, and she wasn't going to admit to it anytime soon.

Finally, she felt she'd passed enough time, and she slipped her shoes on and wrapped a shawl firmly about her shoulders, and descended into the city outside. She remembered the first time she had made this journey; she and Faramir ran through the city together to meet Boromir returning, triumphant, from his first Orc hunting party. In the privacy between them alone, he had told them of his fear and the truthful account of how brutal and ungraceful the battle truly was. Still, he had fulfilled his aim, and his father was proud as ever. The following year, Faramir had gone out, and Boromir had gone with him even though his father had not been keen. It gave Anesia a feeling of relief, and maybe that was why he had done it, but Faramir still made his name known and returned, pale but smiling.

The strange reality that Boromir would never ride through the white gates, smiling, clapping his brother on the back and laughing as they returned struck Anesia once again and her eyes filled with tears suddenly. Then, she saw the flag, so close now, waving beyond the gates and she sniffed, discreetly lifting her head to dry the tears and she quickened her pace.

It was not ladylike to go into the courtyard among the horses; how her mother had scolded her the first time she had done it, so she resisted, knowing that Faramir might well be filthy, sweaty and covered in orc blood. The thought of blood, and that he might be injured himself, made her head spin even though neither brother had ever given any kind of inclination to her that they'd ever gotten hurt. On thinking about it, she imagined the two had agreed not to worry her.

The gates were opened amid shouts, and her heart leapt as she heard someone shout "Lord Faramir has returned!"

She leaned out over the balcony into the courtyard, searching for the light brushed gold colour of his hair, or the familiar threaded leather saddle atop his dappled white stallion Coran, and suddenly she heard her name.

"Anesia!" It was sharp, but familiar, and she whirled her gaze to see Faramir to her right, on Coran, looking up at her, and she relaxed, not quite finding the strength to smile. "Wait for me, I will see you momentarily." He promised, nodding to her, and she nodded back, moving away from the balcony for others to have her space, and she sat down on a sanded bench. It was much longer than he promised, of course, but she waited patiently until she saw him coming towards her. Some of his hair was wet where he had roughly washed his face in anticipation of seeing her, and he was still wearing his chainmail to hide his stinking tunic from her somewhat.

"Anesia." He said by way of greeting, since she was watching him near her, and had risen to stand.

"You are well." She said, her eyes checking for injuries, and he nodded.

"Yes, although I heard….grave news." He said, and dropped his eyes from her, his lips faltering to speak.

"I know, Faramir, the news has reached us here." She said softly, taking his hands in hers that were very cold, and holding them in hers for a moment. "Come, we shall walk up to the Halls of Minas Tirith and get you some food and water and talk more there."

He seemed so utterly lost that he just agreed, allowing her to lead him through the crowds of peoples and back up to the Halls of Denethor.

She organised everything before him, giving orders on his behalf which were followed immediately, and soon she had him seated comfortably with a bowl of steaming stew before him, and a mug of ale to the side, and as he tucked in she unlaced his chainmail and pulled it off over his head, ignoring his protests. It was something she had done for both brothers in the place of a mother or wife, and she always insisted. She handed the chainmail to a serving maid with instructions to clean it, and settled in front of him, soothing herself that at least Faramir was back safe and sound.

"When did you hear about Boromir?" He asked, and she let out a low breath and thought to herself.

"About….three days past." She said, and asked the question that had been troubling her. "How did you hear of it?"

"Word was sent out to us, the scout reached us a day ago." She let out a low breath.

"I'm sorry, Faramir." She said quietly, and he nodded.

"As am I. But I know you cared for him as your own brother, you need not take on my own grief as your own." He said in a low, soft voice she hadn't heard him use before. He sounded so much older and wearier than she had ever heard him.

"Faramir you cannot carry him with you." She said gently, and he rose his eyes to her.

"I can for a little while at least Anesia. Give me time to mourn."

She couldn't respond with what she thought, which was that he might not be given the luxury of time, with a father like his.


	3. Chapter 3 - What happened with Frodo

_To start with I wanted to thank my reviewers_. _I've made an effort to try and move the story along at a more controlled, normal pace so I hope it reads a little better from hereon in. _

_Tredda is based a little on my Italian Teacher, who is a fantastic woman but utterly bonkers, so I hope you like her. Originally she didn't come in until much later but I wanted to add more to the story and thought she'd do just nicely. _

_I don't know what 'Sweet bread' is supposed to be **exactly**, but originally it was 'butter cookies' and I don't think they had cookies in Gondor, and biscuits didn't sound right. It's based on the sugary tasting rolls I ate in Italy, if that helps. It's basically bread that tastes weird with cheese. _

_Also I'm not sure what Denethor's palace is called exactly, so it alternates between the Halls of Minas Tirith and The Halls of Denethor - if anyone can put me straight I'd be most grateful!_

**Chapter Three – What happened with Frodo**

It was at times like these that Anesia cursed herself for being so silly as to not make other friends. She had many acquaintances, and a few other court ladies that she occasionally did needlework with, but they were not friends that she could relax with, and talk about her personal life with. Eventually, she wrapped herself up in her cloak against the chilly air, and went down the levels of the city into the marketplace. She was well-known since her youth there, and she always found her steps led her to Tredda, wizened and somewhat wicked-looking, crouched behind her stall of many colours and threads.

"Lady Anesia, looking for something in particular? Perhaps some lovely white lace for a wedding dress?" Tredda never changed, and this was no exception as she held out an admittedly beautiful piece of lace for her to see. Anesia brushed her fingers over the soft texture but shook her head.

"No, you know better than I that I am not to be wed just yet Tredda." She said wryly, and the older woman laughed, her breath wheezing as she snorted, feeling no embarrassment.

"It won't be long you know, mark my words." She said, waving an arthritic finger at her.

"I've never known you to be wrong." Anesia conceded, and she nodded in delight.

"No one ever has, you ask my Aethur, he'll tell you as much." She said sagely, and Anesia giggled. Tredda's long-suffering husband was something of myth to her, since he was a guard at the gates and she was never allowed even close to there.

"I'm sure he would. Actually I do have a cause to be here; I snagged my shawl on a coat peg the other morning and I'm quite at a loss for my silver thread." She said, and Tredda held up a finger to stop her, scouting with eyes as sharp as ever through a basket at the front of her stall.

"Here." She said triumphantly, waving it about and then placing it in Anesia's outstretched hands. "Three coins for that." She said, and Anesia paid her from her purse.

"Thank you Tredda." She said, and turned to walk back up the hill.

"You take care Anesia. Give my best to your father." Tredda said, waggling her finger knowingly, and Anesia nodded and smiled. "I will."

In truth, her shawl was fine, but the way Tredda wheezed as she laughed, and had to sit herself on a stool in recent years led Anesia to want to help her in any way she could. Placing the thread in her collection of different colours, she went into the kitchen where Lania was washing bowls.

"Can I help you my Lady?" She asked, taking her hands out of the water and patting them dry on her apron.

"No Lania, it's quite alright. I wanted to make some of mother's sweet bread for father." She said, and Lania nodded, letting her be.

The next day, Anesia was glad her father asked for no explanation when she said she was off out, taking a small basket with treats in it. She made her way through the kitchen gardens of the Halls of Minas Tirith, and found her way to Faramir's study, where she found him buried under papers and scrolls.

"You shouldn't be working." She chided softly as she was let in, Faramir glanced up at her, smiling ruefully.

"Life doesn't stand still, Anesia."

"You're acting strangely, Faramir." She said, using his name pointedly. She crossed the room and set the basket down. "I brought you some home comforts. I'm sure you'd get them here if you wished for them but something told me you wouldn't seek them out. What happened when you were gone? You seem…shaken." She said, shaking her head irritably. Faramir watched her with faint amusement.

"You don't ever stop do you?" He said, lifting the blanket on the basket and finding a jar of jam (with a spoon) and some sweet bread. Those made from her mother's recipe were the best in Minas Tirith in his opinion, even from Denethor's impressive kitchens.

"What happened?" She pressed, and his expression grew serious.

"I found something more of Boromir from two who knew him." He said, sighing and putting a hand to his forehead. Anesia watched patiently and said nothing. "He set off in a party of nine, although since disbanded. The two I encountered, hobbits they called themselves, halflings, they didn't know of his death. Annie, they carried the ring of power."

A chill shot down Anesia's back at the dark tone in his voice. "What do you mean?"

"On a chain around his neck." He said incredulously, still wondering if he believed what had happened not that he shared it with someone other than those there at the time. "I intended to bring them here, to my father…I thought the ring could save us." He said, and shook his head. "I can't lie, I thought about how proud father would be of me. He doesn't know I let them go, not yet. He cannot know." He said sharply, looking up at her with alarm. Anesia reached a hand out towards him, although she was still far from touching him.

"Faramir you know I would never…." The softness of her voice reminded him of who she was and calmed him.

"Before I let them go, when I told them that the ring would save Gondor….one of them told me that Boromir had become consumed by the ring and tried to take it. He had nearly killed the Halfling for it." He said, his voice hollow. "That is not the Boromir I knew. Who did this ring make him into? What did these people think of him, did they have to shoot him down like a rabid animal?" All of Faramir's worries about his beloved brother poured out of him, and Anesia touched his hand lightly, hesitantly, before covering it with her own.

"Faramir, Boromir was a good man. And his friends knew that. And so did the Halflings. We all have bad sides to our character. It doesn't mean we are bad people. Boromir is that same man that you remember, and he deserves to be remembered as such. And as for you, you did a good thing to let them go. They must complete their task and you yours."

_I added this into the original story a week ago, because I watched the film and realised Faramir might well mention some of this. I thought certainly hearing about your brother like this might give you something to think about, and it seemed natural to me that he would share it with Anesia. _

_Once again, thank you for reading and especially for reviewing, I hope you're enjoying!_


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